


Kidnapping Wasn’t On the Grocery List

by Marvelous_Writer



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Banner Whump, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Human Experimentation, Hurt Bruce Banner, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, In the Hands of the Enemy, Irondad, Irondad & Spiderson, Kidnapped, Kidnapped Bruce Banner, Kidnapped Peter Parker, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Bruce, Poor Peter, Protective Bruce Banner, Whump, no.2, nothing graphic tho don’t worry, whumptober2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26766061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelous_Writer/pseuds/Marvelous_Writer
Summary: In which Peter and Bruce are kidnapped by AIM.Whumptober Day 2: Kidnapped
Relationships: Bruce Banner & Natasha Romanov, Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946764
Comments: 9
Kudos: 250
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Kidnapping Wasn’t On the Grocery List

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [@blondsak](https://blondsak.tumblr.com/) and [@xxx-cat-xxx](https://xxx-cat-xxx.tumblr.com/) for beta reading and ideas!!

They took them in broad daylight at a grocery store a few miles away from the compound. In hindsight, Bruce could have done something—paid more attention to their surroundings. He’s grown accustomed to not always needing to constantly look over his shoulder like he’d done before joining the team. 

That’s why they’re in this mess now. He messed up…. _badly_. 

Bruce and Peter were only there to pick up a few things for dinner that night, bringing their bags to one of Tony’s less conspicuous Audi sedans. Peter barely had any time to react before a group of goons were on top of them, one of them getting in a lucky shot and hitting Peter behind the head with a crowbar. 

Bruce felt the big guy shift inside of him, the all-too-familiar green glow in his eyes, when one of the men suddenly grabs Peter, who’s half-conscious, by his hoodie and shoves a gun against the side of his head. 

“You turn green and I’ll kill the kid!” The man threatens. 

Bruce grits his teeth, calculating the odds in his head—there wouldn’t be enough time to save Peter if the Hulk took over. He couldn’t risk it. Bruce closes his eyes and does one of his calm breathing exercises, pushing the Hulk down, which he’ll probably pay for later. 

The moment he opens his eyes, hands are on him and dragging him and Peter to a nondescript white van, throwing both of them inside. Before Bruce has a chance to check on Peter, something slams against the back of his head and he knows no more. 

…

The first thing Bruce registers is pain, a strange throbbing sensation pulsating throughout his entire body. He feels weak, like all the life and energy has been sucked right out of him. 

Bruce slowly opens his eyes with a pained groan, blinking away the blurriness he’s met with. He’s in a glass cell of some kind, an eerie green glow throughout the room from the light above him, locked away in a glass panel on the ceiling. Bruce has to look away from the light when it burns his eyes. 

He suddenly remembers how he got here, the white van, the men, and— _Peter!_

Bruce’s eyes widen as he forces himself to sit up, panic flowing through him as he looks around, only to spot a figure lying on the ground in the cell next to him, facing him. 

“Peter?” Bruce whispers, but the teen doesn’t move. “Peter?” He doesn’t even stir when Bruce raises his voice, meaning that he still might be unconscious from the blow he got to the back of his head. 

Just then, he hears footsteps coming towards them. They get closer and closer until a woman in a lab coat stops in front of the glass door to the cell, offering him a polite smile like he wasn’t a prisoner. 

“Ah, it’s good to see that you’re up, Dr. Banner. I hope you’re comfortable in there.” 

“Who are you?” Bruce questions. 

“My name is Dr. Shaw, I work for AIM,” she tells him. 

_Of course this has something to do with AIM,_ Bruce bitterly thinks to himself. 

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here?” the woman asks him, but continues before he can answer. “You’re here because I need your help, Dr. Banner. I’ve created a weapon for AIM that needs a certain power source, but I have yet to be able to find one that has enough power to do the job. And I know just the thing to do it… gamma radiation—but more specifically, the very radiation that is coursing through your veins at this very _moment_.” 

Bruce’s stomach drops at her words. It’s not the first time someone has come after him for his… _abilities_. General Ross hunted him down for years, wanting nothing more than to destroy the Hulk and take the source of his power. He never succeeded, so why does this woman think she can?

He really doesn’t want to find out either. 

“Look, I really don’t think that’s a—”

“Dr. Banner,” the woman says before she lets out a sigh. “I hope that you will be compliant during your stay with us. If you’re not, then I’ll have no other choice than to hurt Mr. Parker.” 

Bruce’s head snaps over to Peter as two armed guards open his cell door and roughly grab the unconscious teen, forcing him to his knees, earning a pained groan from him. 

Bruce eyes the woman threateningly. “Don’t you dare touch him. If you do I swear I’ll—”

The woman lets out an amused laugh at his words. “There’s nothing you can do to stop me. This cell you’re in is releasing gamma inhibiting particles that are bombarding your cells, so you won’t be transforming into your green friend any time soon.” 

That would explain why he feels so weak. 

“I’ve been watching you for a while Dr. Banner and I know you’re close to Mr. Parker. And I’d hate to have to hurt him if you don’t cooperate with us,” the woman threatens, an evil smirk pulling at her crimson lips. 

They’ve been watching him, but more importantly, they’ve been watching _Peter_ . There’s no telling how much they know about him or his _extracurricular activities._ If they know Peter is Spider-Man, they’re going to experiment on him too. 

And this woman isn’t joking around. If he doesn’t give her what she wants… she might kill Peter for it. 

Bruce closes his eyes, letting his head hang in defeat. He can’t save Peter by breaking them out… so he’s going to have to give her what she wants. “Alright… I’ll do it.”

…

Hours after the woman and guards leave, Peter wakes up. Bruce picks himself off of the floor, fighting against the wave of dizziness he’s met with from the movement as he looks over at Peter, who’s still on the ground on his back where the guards left him. 

“Peter? Can you hear me?” Bruce asks, brows pulling together in concern as he watches the teen blink his eyes open slowly. “Peter?” 

“B’ce? W-Where… are we?” Peter slurs out, clearly struggling to form words. 

Worry pools in Bruce’s stomach. Either Peter was hit on the head too hard or they drugged him. There goes their chance to use the kid’s super strength for a breakout.

“B’ce?” Peter asks panically as he struggles to sit up. 

“It’s okay, Peter. We’re going to be alright. Take it easy,.” Bruce reassures him, wishing that he was in the same cell with him so he could calm him down. 

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly echoes throughout the room they’re in, fear shooting through Bruce as he sees three heavily armed guards approach his cell, followed by Dr. Shaw.

“Dr. Banner, it’s time for your first treatment,” she tells him as one of the guards opens the cell door. 

Bruce eyes one of the guards that’s standing outside of Peter’s cell wearily before he approaches the woman. One of the guards slaps a pair of reinforced handcuffs on him before shoving him forward. Bruce stumbles ahead, feeling a gun press against his back as they lead him up the hallway. 

“B’ce?” Peter calls out as they pass by his cell. 

Guilt flows through Bruce at how scared Peter looks, his glaze over eyes wide with fear. “It’s okay, Peter. Everything’s going to be okay—”

“Move!” the guard tells him, shoving him again. 

This is the only way he can save Peter. 

They lead him down the long hallway and down several more before they reach a secured metal door. Dr. Shaw steps in front of them and types in a passcode before the door opens with a loud buzzing sound. Bruce follows her inside when one of the guards shoves him forward again. The laboratory is big, with high vaulted ceilings with various pieces of equipment strewn about, all of which Bruce knows the names and functions of except one.

It’s a reinforced metal chair with a large high-tech gun facing it a few feet away. It must be something AIM has created for one of their illegal projects. 

“Strap him in,” the woman commands the guards, motioning to the chair. 

Or they created the machine for _him_. 

Bruce’s instincts are screaming at him to fight back, break Peter out and get the hell out of this place, but he’s clearly outnumbered here. He couldn’t transform into the Hulk even if he wanted to with the gamma inhibiting particles in him. The Hulk is practically a walking nuclear reactor and AIM has somehow figured out how to cool him down. 

Once Bruce is strapped into the machine, the woman takes her position at the control panel on the opposite side of the room as a glass door slides around Bruce and the high-tech gun, sealing him inside with it. 

“All comfortable, Dr. Banner?” The woman asks with a teasing smirk and Bruce can see the evil glint in her blue eyes from where he is. 

Before he gets the chance to say anything, the gun a few feet in front of him whirs to life, taking aim at him. A beam of white light shoots out from it, hitting him directly in the chest. All at once, an overwhelming burning pain spreads through him, feeling his cells being ripped apart inside of him as the gamma is sucked out of his body. 

He feels like he’s on _fire_. 

Bruce tosses his head back with an agonized cry, barely feeling his head collide against the metal behind him. 

It goes on for what feels like forever, every moment more excruciating than the next, when all of a sudden the gun is turned off. Bruce lets out a choked sound in relief as he falls forward, being held back by the chair’s restraints, heavily panting with his eyes tightly closed. 

He’s barely aware of the time after as he feels himself drift off into darkness, hearing voices and strange mechanical sounds before hands are on him, dragging him away. He opens his eyes, finding it hard to see through the blurriness he’s met with but he registers that he’s being dragged down a hallway before he’s thrown back into his cell. 

Bruce blacks out before he even hits the ground. 

…

Consciousness fades back to him in waves, bringing sounds, coldness, and pain— _excruciating pain._ It still feels like his cells were being ripped apart all over again on a constant, endless cycle. He can’t remember the last time he’s ever been in pain like this. 

Bruce cracks open his heavy eyes, finding that he’s lying on the cold ground in his cell, for who knows how long. From how stiff he feels, probably hours. He slowly pushes himself up on his elbows, teeth gritted determinedly as he fights through the agony, until his back is propped up against the glass wall behind him. He opens his eyes again, blinking away the stubborn blurriness and looks to the cell beside him… only to see that Peter is gone. 

A fresh wave of panic rushes through him so fast it makes his head spin as Bruce gets to his feet, feeling his heart racing in his chest as his eyes dart around for any sign of the teen. But there’s none. 

They took him. 

They took _Peter_. 

_This is all my fault,_ Bruce thinks as he closes his eyes tightly and drops his forehead against the glass. 

If only he had _paid attention_ when they were walking back to the car, they wouldn’t have gotten caught—or at least they could have called the team for help. The team had to know they were missing by now because they missed dinner last night—or yesterday. Maybe it was _days_ ago by now. But he got Peter into this mess… and the kid is likely paying for it now. 

_What if he’s dead?_ Bruce suddenly thinks. Peter is only sixteen and he has his entire life ahead of him… he’s such a kind, intelligent, loving, polite, and selfless kid. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Peter’s aunt is at home right now, and knowing her, she’s probably worried sick about him. 

If AIM killed him… Bruce doesn’t know what he’s going to do. 

So, Bruce does the only thing he can do right now. He waits. 

What feels like hours goes by as he spends the time either sitting or pacing around the small cell, trying to fight through the pain because he’s always been one to pace when in a crisis or when the need to brainstorm arises. Bruce estimates it to be around three hours before he hears a door slam open from somewhere down the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps. 

He stands at the wall in the direction of the footsteps, his stomach churning with nerves as they get closer. 

Two guards come into view, followed by Dr. Shaw, and Bruce feels his stomach drop when he sees that they’re dragging someone. 

It’s Peter. 

They toss him back inside his cell and Peter barely manages to catch himself on his arms, letting out a round of harsh sounding coughs as he curls up on the floor, one of his arms coming to wrap around his stomach. 

“Peter? Peter?” Bruce frantically calls to the teen, who continues to cough in response. Bruce turns to Dr. Shaw who’s standing in front of Peter’s cell, grinning almost like she’s proud of herself. “I-I’ve done everything you asked! Y-You said you wouldn’t hurt him!” 

The woman turns her head and looks at him, her grin widening as she approaches him, standing face to face with him between the glass wall. “You’re a man of science, Bruce. Do you really think I would let the _Amazing_ Spider-Man slip right through my fingers without seeing how he ticks?” 

“He’s just a kid! Do whatever you want to me!! _Please…_ just let him go.” Bruce pleads. 

The woman stares at him with her cold blue eyes for several seconds before she smiles. “Okay. I’ll let him go… when I’m _finished_ with him.” 

She turns away before he has a chance to say anything and walks back down the hallway, trailed by the two guards. Bruce listens until their footfalls disappear down the hallway, then he turns his attention back to Peter, who’s still one the ground with his back facing him, silent and still. 

“Peter?” Bruce whispers, brows pulling together in concern when the teen doesn’t move. 

“B’ce?” Peter murmurs. 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks in concern. 

Peter slowly nods. “Y-Yeah…” 

It takes a few seconds before Peter moves slightly, a pained groan escaping through gritted teeth as he slowly pushes himself up on his elbow, easing himself into a sitting position. From here, Bruce can see his face a little more clearly, allowing him to see the blood pooling from his nose and split lip. His right eye is swollen, which will definitely be a bad black eye in a few hours. There’s no telling how much more damage those guards did to him—because of Bruce. 

Bruce closes his eyes, guilt flowing through him at the sight of the teenager in front of him. “Peter… I’m so sorry. I… I should have been paying attention—I did this. I got us thrown into this mess. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“S’ not your fault. I should have… been paying attention too.” Peter says with a wince as he slides back until his back is leaning against the glass wall behind him. 

Bruce opens his eyes, unshed tears blurring his vision. “I’m going to find a way to get us out of here. I promise,” he says firmly, but as he says it, he doubts it. 

How could they escape a place like this? Peter is hurt and Bruce couldn’t turn into the Hulk even if he wanted to. Their only hope is for the team to find them, wherever they are. 

So the only thing they can do… is wait for the team or for the right opportunity to try to escape on their own. But no matter what, Bruce isn’t going to leave this place without Peter. 

…

The gamma extraction sessions don’t seem to stop. With all the constant pain and blacking out, Bruce can’t keep track of how many times he’s been strapped to that metal chair, or how many days have gone by since they’ve been in this hell hole. 

Whenever he wakes up after being brought back to his cell, Peter is always gone, returning hours later beaten and bloody. One of those times it takes Peter hours before he wakes up, delirious from whatever drugs they pumped into him. 

Bruce doesn’t know what they’re doing to him exactly, besides beating and drugging him. It makes him sick to his stomach. He begs Dr. Shaw one of those times to stop torturing Peter, which must have been a pathetic sight with Bruce on his hands and knees, still horribly weak from the latest extraction session. The doctor just _laughs_ at him, cold and uncaring—a cruel _monster_ . Bruce has seen his fair share of bad people in his life… but this woman beats all of them. He’s never met someone so _horrible_ and _inhumane._

Bruce has never felt so helpless in his entire life, only able to watch Peter suffering in the cell next to him, hearing him cry himself to sleep and having bad nightmares, getting horribly sick from the drugs or his injuries, always in constant pain. Bruce tries to calm and reassure him as best as he can, wanting nothing more than to hug him and take all of his pain for him. 

One day, when two guards come to their cells and drop off food, a small piece of stale bread and a small cup of water, Peter doesn’t touch any of it. He remains curled up on the floor in the corner of his cell, shivering. It’s no secret that they must be drugging them with the water, but Bruce knows they’re just trying to keep them alive for the time being. 

Bruce tries to talk him into eating, but Peter’s too weak to get up to get it on his own. That’s when it really sinks in… that Peter might not make it. Bruce has noticed how skinny the kid’s gotten during this whole ordeal, from the lack of food and nutrients—Peter’s skin is ghostly pale, and his face hasn’t healed up like it normally would and whatever he does manage to eat always makes a reappearance shortly after. 

Peter’s body is slowly giving up on him as the days pass by. 

And Bruce isn’t faring any better, but he doesn’t care about that. Peter is more important. 

Bruce is laying down on the cold floor, staring blankly at the ceiling and that horrible green light. It’s late, he knows, despite the lack of a clock or windows to give him a clue as to what time it is. Peter managed to fall asleep about an hour ago. Bruce knows he should try to get some sleep himself, but he’s honestly too afraid to close his eyes, fearing that they’ll take Peter again while he’s out since that’s usually when it happens. 

He’s grateful for how quiet it is at the moment, the lack of footfalls coming in their direction offering him a little comfort at least. Bruce has spent the past few nights like this, lying on the floor, sometimes trying to come up with an escape plan, figuring out a way to contact the team, or reminiscing about the good times in his life. But tonight… he doesn’t think about anything, really. It feels like all hope is lost at this point, but he can’t give up, not with Peter’s life on the line. 

Bruce breathes out a long sigh, seeing a puff of air escape his lips before he closes his eyes, not intending to fall asleep any time soon. 

He startles when a round of yelling suddenly comes from somewhere in the building. He can’t make out what they’re saying, but the voices sound rushed and panicked. Bruce’s brows pull together as he slowly sits up, glancing over at Peter, who is still sound asleep, unaware of the commotion.

The voices grow louder and more panicked before the sound of gunfire erupts, followed by a familiar sound of repulsor blasts. Bruce would know that sound anywhere. 

_Iron Man._

The team is here to save them. 

“Peter! Peter, wake up!” Bruce calls, excitement and newfound hope flowing through him, but the teen doesn’t even move. “Peter! Come on, we-”

The sudden sound of footsteps silences him as two guards run up to his cell, both armed with large guns. 

“On your feet now!” One of them yells harshly while the other guard types a code on the pad next to the door before it slides open. 

Before they get the chance to walk in the cell, something flashes in the corner of Bruce’s eye and an arrow hits one of the guards in the chest, throwing him to the ground. 

The other guard jumps back in surprise. “What the-”

He doesn’t get the chance to finish before a foot is slamming in his face, the force of it sending him flying, slamming head-first into the wall, promptly knocking him out. A figure steps out of the shadows, and none other than Black Widow and Hawkeye are standing there. 

“N-Nat? C-Clint?” Bruce asks in disbelief. 

“Bruce,” Natasha greets, offering him a small smile. “Clint, get Peter.” 

“On it,” Clint says as he quickly goes over to Peter’s cell, eyes widening as he looks inside at him. “Shit,” Bruce hears him curse as he hacks into the code pad, the glass door sliding up seconds after. 

Bruce looks back at Natasha as she walks into his cell, seeing the worried expression on her usually stoic face. 

“Let’s get you out of here,” she tells him as she helps him to his feet, draping one of his arms over her shoulders. “The Quinjet is waiting outside and the team is busy on clean-up duty.”

“H-How did you guys find us?” Bruce asks, fighting through the wave of dizziness and nausea he’s met with from standing. The few steps out of the cell are difficult to say the least with how wobbly his legs are. 

“We couldn’t find any security cameras near where you were taken, so we couldn’t get a plate. But Tony did manage to trace Peter’s phone up until a few miles from here, so we figured there were blockers up around here for a reason. It just took us longer than we’d hoped to find you.” She says, her face falling as she looks away at something. 

Bruce looks to where she’s looking and he feels his stomach drop at the sight of Clint carrying Peter, who looks like he’s dead—or scarily close to it. 

“Let’s get back to the jet,” Natasha says as she turns, leading Bruce down the hallway with Clint right behind them. 

Walking through the maze of hallways is a blur as they quickly make their way, avoiding the sounds of fighting going on somewhere nearby. Bruce struggles to keep up with Natasha on his weak, shaky legs, feeling like he’s going to pass out at any second, but he thankfully manages to make it outside. 

The feeling of the cold, autumn air hits him, sending chills through him.

The Quinjet is several hundred feet from the run-down looking brick building, the ramp opening up as they approach. They get inside and Natasha has Bruce sit down on a gurney while Clint lies Peter down on another gurney across from him, starting to hook him up to an IV and an oxygen mask. The doctor in Bruce comes out and he stands up to help, but Natasha is quick to sit him back down again.

“You need to take it easy,” she says, giving him a stern look as she prepares another IV before sitting down next to him, taking his arm. 

Bruce barely even flinches when the needle pierces his skin, too focused on watching Clint take care of Peter, who has yet to wake up. 

He feels a warm, comforting hand fall on his shoulder, gently squeezing. “He’s going to be alright. He’s a tough kid,” Natasha reassures. 

Bruce silently nods, forcing himself to look away from Peter’s too-pale face. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “He almost died.”

“But he didn’t. He’s going to be okay, Bruce.” 

He shakes his head and raises his eyes to meet hers. “This is _my fault._ They wanted _me_ , Nat. He got mixed up in AIM’s business because of _me_. I did this. I’m the one that should be in his position. He’s just a kid. What they did to him—Dr. Shaw— they need to pay for it.” 

“And they will. The team got her and the other scientists. SHIELD is on the way to pick them up. They’ll interrogate them and lock them up for a _very_ long time. We’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.” Natasha firmly says. “Right now, you need to rest.” She orders before standing up, heading to the front of the jet. 

Bruce knows she’s right. All of this has taken a toll on him—he’s even surprised he’s made it this far without passing out and he certainly doesn’t want to press his luck. He lies down and breathes out a relieved sigh, feeling immensely better horizontal. He lies there for several moments, sleep pulling at him, drawing him closer and closer to the darkness. 

He’s sound asleep within minutes. 

…

Consciousness slowly drifts back to Bruce in waves, thankfully painless this time around. When he opens his eyes, he slowly blinks as he takes in his surroundings, recognizing the soft grey walls of the medbay. 

“Look who’s decided to join the land of the living.” Someone says to his right and he turns his head in the voice’s direction, finding Natasha sitting in a chair next to his bed. She offers him a soft smile as she uncurls her legs and sits up. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” Bruce answers, lips curling into a tired smile. “How long have I been out?” 

“A little over twenty-four hours now,” she answers. 

That doesn’t surprise him like it probably should. 

“How’s Peter?” Bruce asks worriedly.

“He’s doing good. He woke up a few hours ago and Cho’s been taking good care of him. There were a lot of drugs that had to be flushed out of his system… but he’s on the mend. As are you… you two really went through hell.” 

Bruce nods not wanting to remember any of it, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “We did.” He drops his hand with a sigh. “Can I see him? I just… have to see that he’s okay with my own eyes, you know?” 

He almost expects her to give him some comment about him needing to stay in bed, but instead, she stands up and unlocks the IV stand he’s hooked up to. Natasha knows him better than Bruce knows himself, so she doesn’t fight him on this. 

“Let’s go,” Natasha says with a soft, but genuine smile. 

Getting out of bed and on his feet is a bit of a struggle, but he definitely feels a little stronger now. Natasha hooks an arm around his and helps him out of his room and down the hallway before they stop at another room. Bruce can see Tony sitting in a chair at Peter’s bedside, with Peter lying in bed, propped up on a stack of pillows through the glass wall, but the image of the teen lying on the floor of the cell back at the AIM base has a chill running down Bruce’s spine. Natasha rubs a hand up and down his arm, seeming to sense his unease. 

Bruce swallows thickly before they walk over to the door, Natasha knocking. “You have a visitor,” she announces softly. 

Peter turns his head in their direction, offering a small, tired smile. “Hey.” 

Bruce smiles, relieved to see that his face had significantly cleared up, leaving only a few bruises and scrapes. “Hey,” he repeats. 

“You know,” Tony cuts in, looking at Bruce disapprovingly with a hint of worry in his eyes. “you really shouldn’t be walking around yet.” 

Bruce gives him a small grin. “Like that’s ever stopped me before. And you’re one to talk.” 

Tony stands up from the chair, smiling. “True,” he says before looking at Peter with soft eyes, the ones he spares for just Peter and Morgan, _‘the dad eyes’_ as the team likes to call it. “I’ll give you two a minute. I’m gonna get some coffee, I’ll be right down the hallway if you need me.” 

When Tony and Natasha step out of the room, Bruce walks the rest of the way over to the chair next to Peter’s bed and takes a seat. “Peter… I… I am… so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have let them-”

“It’s not your fault, Bruce,” Peter says firmly. “It happened so fast.” 

“It did,” Bruce agrees. “But… we’re _safe_ now. Those scientists—they’re locked up for good.” 

“That’s good,” Peter answers and the two of them go silent for a few seconds before Peter clears his throat. “I, uh… I don’t remember a whole lot that happened because of the whole… being drugged. But… thanks for, well, helping me through all of it.” 

“Of course,” Bruce says, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, I don’t know about you but I’m starving. How about I see if I can get someone to bring us up something to eat?”

“Pizza?” Peter asks with a hopeful smile. 

Bruce shakes his head with a smile. “Not sure if that’s the best food to start off on after not having anything for a few days, but sure. Pizza it is.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments and kudos are appreciated!!!


End file.
